The Life of Runepriest Geirhild
by Elenaria
Summary: Another contest entry. From the life of the humble Runepriest Geirhild comes this tale, about a time long before she was taken by a ship sailing the stars, back when the harsh life of a Fenrisian was everything she knew and the fight for survival was much


(((Once again, this is a piece written for a contest at http/ The title of the contest was "Where I went on my summer vacation" and the main theme was location, location, location. Whatever was written had to give the feeling that you were really there, on the planet or in space or wherever it was. I received no votes at all this time (!) but I think that is due more to the fact of the 30+ something number of entries in the contest, than for it being unappreciated... It is a bit "intern" at times, this being once more a roleplaying character of mine, however, this piece broke my long writer's block and therefore it has a special part in my heart. Other than it being quite an interesting piece for being W40K fanfic, of course. Written July 2006.)))

Excerpt from the most humble scriptures of "The Life of Adeptus Mechanicus Runepriest Geirhild of Fenris":

In the late winter of the year of the Blue Kraken, as the Fenrisians count it, my brother – who had just reached his full manhood, and was already very strong and handsome – came running, excited and with sword by his side, as he was wont to do. Looking up from sharpening my axe, I saw that he'd dropped his fur-brimmed cap again, but I didn't think it'd be hard to find. He must've made a track in the snow a blind, lame child of the Seven Wolf's Paw tribe could follow.

"What is it now?" came my father's booming voice. Not yet had he lost his strength, not yet crippled, as he would be. He put down his sword, and I took the cloth he'd been using for polishing, to wipe my axe.

My brother, his blonde hair braided by our mother this morning but already looking unkempt, proudly said:

"Far I scouted, searching for game, in forest deep.

Great stag, great-horned, with doe beside.

I have found it, now to hunt!"

Father knitted his brow, harrumphed and nodded.

"Well spoken, son, we may make a skald for the home hearth of you yet. But listen well to Brage next time you hear him, for your words are uneven yet, and your skill matches not your ambition."

You could hear Ulfgeir chuckle with pride anyway, he took after our father in many manners like that. I had an easier time with the telling of tales than he, but more seldom had adventures to put into verse.

But not much more was said of the subject, as I hastened to get dressed for hunting, and from a hanger on one of the rare tree-posts in our ship-house I took down my bow. Mother came in through the double doors (built so to not let out precious warmth) and was told what had happened. She put down what she had been carrying.

"A pity I am in the middle of taking in the clothes! I would have loved to hunt."

In the winter, we would bury our woollen clothes in the snow, and let the cool and moisture draw out dirt from the fabric. Mother and some of the neighbouring women had taken advantage of the letup in storms the last few days.

Father caught her in his strong arms, and, helping her out of her large coat, kissed her straight on the lips.

"Let the young ones help out this time, they have learned just fine. Stay here, and I'll let you praise me for my manly skills!"

Mother blushed, but joined the rest of us in laughter. Then, my brother was back out the door after grabbing a loaf of dark bread, and with my thigh-high boots I ran after him.

We were seven to go out, three young women, three men of varying ages and one whom was still called boy. Some carried spears, some bows, a few did both. Soon, the noises from the village died out, and with his fang-tipped spear, my brother pointed out the direction. We moved in line, stepping in the tracks he'd made earlier (very discreet compared to what I'd guessed), but when we saw his cap placed on a branch, we silently fanned out. Soon, every here and there were signs showing us we were moving in the right direction, and we slowed even more. Some moved like the great wolves, careful not to step with regular pace as that makes a sound easier to discover, and some like our game itself.

The sun shone through light clouds, making the deep snow glitter. I would remember this day, the way the snow glittered, when I was taken to the stars. But of that, I knew nothing yet. Occasionally, a branch would let fall its load of half-melted and heavy snow, and we saw small birds flitting between the trees and bushes. The silence lay heavy, with a whistled command or message (consisting of imitated bird's sounds) every now and then. Here, the forest was denser, there, thin with only scrawny trees. As we crested a low hill, almost encircling a tiny valley, my eyes caught a movement. And, true enough, the moment after, Halfdan whistled, "game spotted". Ours was a large island, and it had survived and grown the last times of upheaval. So, the woods had become deep and mighty, and even yielded some larger examples of the rare, slow-growing trees we liked to use for ships – very appreciated. And the game had grown also; though the last upheaval had been hard for us all, we'd been able to stay, and all for the better.

Now, as quiet as shadows we moved closer, encircling a magnificent stag with large, brutally sharp, horns, and his three does. They were easily as tall as I, the stag in the prime of his life. And by the looks of it, would father three fowls this spring. I spotted a few scars, proof that he'd successfully won many a fight for his beautiful females. If any of them would have looked as if they were not expecting, we might have taken that one instead, but now, we would hopefully carry home something more prestigious.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Ulfgeir imitate the nervous, jerky movement-pattern of the stag, and creep closer. I got snow in my glove, and knew I should pull my cap down to cover my earlobes, but I was hunting, the blood running through me in concert with the wind, picking up now, promising harder weather.

We tensed. The stag had raised his head, stopped digging in the snow. No one froze entirely, that would have made him more nervous. But it was a sign we needed to hurry to end this.

Beren rose, Gudny rose, I saw Freki rise. A split second of absolute calm, then, Gudny's spear struck home. But the four beasts were moving now, and the stag was not mortally wounded. Now the rest rose also, and made for a slight gap between my brother and the boy Rafn, or maybe for the one who seemed like the least of a danger. Snow spurted everywhere.

My angle was perfect, and I prided myself on my good aim. Few left as whole skins as I! Beren moved to cover the way of flight, Yrr lowered her bow with no good angle, Freki stepped away to allow a doe to escape. The clouds hid the sun, and I let fly an arrow. It struck the horned beast deep in the neck, and he went down in a cloud of snow and struggling hooves.

But just as soon would he get up, enraged now, and therefore my brother, proud Ulfgeir, with speed raced to strike him. The stag had turned his head to Rafn, ready to fight, and so my brother launched himself into the air, piercing the stag with spear as sharp as wolf's teeth, grasped in both hands. Letting it go, he held the head of the beast and twisted it with all his might, a crack was heard, and the beast lay dead.

We gathered around.

"Not much of a fight," mumbled Beren, few of words as always.

Gudny clicked her tongue:

"It seems I need to practice my aim on moving targets. That was a bad throw."

"We did well, I would say, for being without much experienced help. Few move as silent as do we!" stated Yrr, now joining the rest of us. She had almost been run over by a panicked doe, and laughed with the rest of us telling that little tale.

All agreed that we had been most successful in this enterprise, and we quickly built a frame for moving the dead game back to home. In the wind, a few snowflakes were dancing, and Freki urged us to hurry. Rafn did his best to smoothen the snow somewhat, and remove all bloodstains. It was not a good thing to attract more attention than wanted, and with a large island came large animals, not only those of the less aggressive kind.

The evergreen branches of the tallest trees were waving in the wind now. On an unspoken cue, we started running, taking turns to drag the makeshift sleigh. The wind came from the north, with snow and promise of freezing nights. Following our own footsteps we ran, never losing pace, avoiding all stones or bushes that would catch on the sleigh.

Halfway home, the storm hit us in full strength. We had heard the roar of the sea as a warning, and knew full well how we may all freeze to death. In the distance, another, more worrying sound was heard – that of wolves.

"They're just gathering their own!" shouted Freki with all his might. "If we hurry, there is no danger!"

So, picking up our pace, we fought through the blizzard. No one could say how long this would last, this late in winter the storms were unpredictable. I rammed my cap further down on my head, almost covering my eyes, and tipped up the fur collar of my jacket. Turning my head toward my brother as I took over pulling the sleigh from Beren, I saw that he'd done the same. The sting of the snowflakes hurt every small piece of skin exposed, started to cover us in white, and I hoped I had remembered to wax my bowstring enough before departure. I grit my teeth, came into second breathing, and kept running.

We ran, for a long time and never slowing. Though our throats began to ache, and the sweat would make us freeze to death should we stop, we refused to let the deep, heavy snow or the roaring wind wear us down. Then, at long last, we saw the first stone marking the border between the forest and the area of our village. It was Rafn, leading at the moment, who almost stumbled over it in the blinding snowfall. He shouted, relieved, and we could hear other people taking up the call, coming to help us.

As we slowed down and the wind was somewhat lessened by the cover of our longhouses, some people came out to see if we had succeeded, if someone had been hurt or to help take care of the game. They ushered us all in, Yrr and Freki here, Rafn to his home, Beren to his and Gudny to hers. Ulfgeir and me they needn't usher, as our mother did that very well all by herself. Inside, the warmth hit our faces like a sleigh, and the sudden lack of wind made us blink. Soon, we were stripped of our wet clothes, and regardless of our protests, put back to back into a small bath our parents had probably shared just before, quite conveniently for us – but it was just the right temperature not to make us faint, yet still warm us up. Mother fussed like she had when we were kids, and father, with dark eyes, admonished us about heeding the warning signs before a storm. No matter how much we protested and explained, he still claimed we should have turned home earlier ("And left the stag?" said Ulfgeir indignantly), but we saw the smile in the corner of his mouth, and all was well.

The stag in question was skinned and all we could take care of, for food or tools or otherwise, was taken care of. The cruel horns were well made use of, as knives for the young, sewing-needles and other things, though I think Ulfgeir would have liked them for his own, as a boastful hanger to impress the future lady of his longhouse.

On that note, our hunting adventure gained us all some fame and respect. Hunting was always a very highly rated skill, and Rafn had good use for that reputation later, as I learned. Of course, it also meant I had to fight a couple of girls more. Vying for my brother's affections was not easy, since I was determined he should not have a weak housewife for his own, and though he did not know at first the extent to which I protected him, he did appreciate that his sister had a say in what girls were allowed to woo him.

And I did not know then, that the girl he would marry I would not be able to scrutinize, that our father would not be alive to see him wed, that I would have donned the red robes of a priest sent by the gods at the time. I was very content with our life, the constant fight against the elements and other tribes, against nature and monsters from the depths of the ocean, and even today I sometimes wish for the simpler life I led then. But I was taken to the great ocean between the stars, on a ship not sailing on any water, and I was made a Rune Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

But at that time, I laughed with my brother and was very happy, for we had a good life, on Fenris, the home of the fiercest warriors, the finest men and the most beautiful women in the Imperium of Mankind.

Here ends the excerpt. Deus et Imperator et Machina.


End file.
